Howl
by semper paratis
Summary: Petunia and Dudley are killed in a car crash leaving Harry without the blood protection that he needs. Dumbledore is able to track down Harry's closest "living" relative, Jasper Cullen. Harry finds more than just family. AbNaGbEyL Harry Whitlock challenge. Slash m/m relationship
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Petunia and Dudley are killed in a car crash leaving Harry without the blood protection that he needs. Dumbledore is able to track down Harry's closest "living" relative, Jasper Whitlock Cullen. Harry finds more than just family… dare I say it… love. Angst with a side of _**Slash**_. Post-_Order_ _of the Phoenix. _AbNaGbEyL Harry Potter/ Twilight 'Harry Whitlock' Challenge response. The title and story are also inspired by the song "Howl" by Florence and the Machine.

**Pairings: **HP/maybe Jacob but definitely one of the wolves, canon pairings for all others (maybe with the exception of Edward and Bella- I really hate Bella).

**Rating:** Eventually-M

**Disclaimer:** I do not own either Harry Potter or the Twilight series. However, it would be lovely if I did!

**A/N: **I wrote this quite a long time ago and lost my HP/Twi fascination. Let me know if you want me to write more!

Funerals are always bad. Always. If someone tells you that they were at a "nice" funeral it is because they didn't actually like the person who died. Or they didn't know them. Or they simply didn't care.

Harry Potter wasn't sure exactly what category he would fall under. He hadn't actually liked the people who died. He never really knew them and he couldn't find it within himself to care that they were dead. This was especially awkward because "they" were his Aunt Petunia and his cousin, Dudley.

He watched dispassionately as his uncle wailed, slumped over the coffin of his only son. Harry guessed, that if pressed, he would say that he did feel pity for his uncle—if Vernon Dursley could even be called that now that Petunia was dead. He knew what it was to lose everything in an instant.

Harry's life had been dominated by such moments. His losses were the things that defined him in the eyes of most of the world. On Privet Drive he had been known as the delinquent orphan that Petunia and Vernon had been so kind as to take in. In the Wizarding World, Harry was the hero whose life had been governed by tragedy. Loss was as much a part of his celebrity as Voldemort and his cursed scar.

Petunia would have liked her funeral, Harry decided. All the women from Privet Drive to Magnolia Crescent were all there and rambling endlessly about what a wonderful woman she was; what a beautiful home she kept; what a glorious garden she maintained. Petunia would have been pleased to know that, even in death, she got all the credit for Harry's hard work.

She had finally achieved perfection and was the paragon of the neighborhood—she only had to die young to do it!

Dudley was no longer the horrid bully either. Now everyone was nattering on about what a sportsman the large boy had been. If it could be considered sportsmanlike to have your mates hold down someone five years younger and more than a hundred pounds lighter while you beat and robbed them, then Dudley had been a champion sportsman.

It was amazing what dying does for one's reputation, Harry mused. To amuse himself he began composing headlines in his head, wondering just what would the Wizarding World say about Harry Potter after his death.

-0-0-0-0-

Thousands of miles away an unusual family was about to have an experience that was odd, even for them. The day began much like dozens of other days that they had experienced. Once again the members of the family were arriving at their new home. Unlike most families that have five children, there was no squabbling over who got what room. There were no harassed parents and no one complaining about the labor involved in unloading the large moving truck and unpacking all of their possessions.

They all moved efficiently in what would appear to be an almost choreographed ballet, each moving around the other with inhuman speed and grace.

Jasper Hale watched contentedly as his family glided about the house. Occasionally his eyes would settle on a dark-haired, young woman and they would fill with warmth. If someone had asked him one hundred years before if he thought he would achieve this kind of happiness he would have laughed… bitterly.

Finding his Alice, who led him to a life where love and laughter and companionship were the norm, was a miracle that he never could have anticipated. Jasper had initially questioned her decision to stay with the Cullens. To him they had been idealists with little grasp on the realities of life. The life of a vampire was one of intense passion. Blood and death is the way of the vampire. Their "vegetarian" lifestyle was a joke.

But as it turned out, it was no joke. The Cullens had proven that to Jasper. Carlisle worked day-after-day saving the lives of humans. He immersed himself in blood every day and was never tempted. Rosalie had never even tasted the blood of a human. The rest had fallen at times, but they too had found the strength to try again. They refused to give up. For that he admired them all tremendously.

Now he had family. Brothers and a sister who were as wonderful as they were exasperating and Carlisle and Esme took their role as parents very seriously. Jasper had seen too much of the horrors of life, even while human, to be able to accept them in such a capacity, but he appreciated the sentiment none the less. It made it easier for him to pretend, in his more light-hearted moments, that life could be kind.

He had learned to trust his mate. She had never led him wrong. And it was Alice who was the herald of change now, as she had been so many times before. All motion in the house halted when Alice froze and let out a loud gasp.

"They're coming." She whispered. "Stay calm."

There was a loud crack and a flash of bright light that faded to reveal two very different men. Both were tall and that was about the only thing that they had in common.

The older one was easily the oldest looking man that Jasper had ever seen. He had a long, wiry gray beard that was so long it was tucked into his belt to keep out of the way. While this was definitely notable, it was his clothing that drew the eye. Long, billowing purple robes swirled around his thin frame and if you looked closely you could see silver shooting stars flying around the bottom hem and on the sleeves at the wrist. On his head he wore a tall pointed hat that bent slightly in the middle. In one hand he carried a shiny stick and in the other was a glowing red crystal about the size of a baseball.

The other man was imposing. That is the kindest word Jasper could come up with in a pinch. He appeared to be in his late thirties and was dressed in black from head to toe, also in billowing robes. His was face was unattractive and scowling. Most startling was a distinct aura of menace that emanated from him which set all of the vampires on edge.

"Albus," he growled to the old man after breaking eye contact with Jasper and shifted to examine Alice with equal intensity. "You cannot possible mean for the boy to stay with them."

The old man, Albus, sighed tiredly. "If you have a better option, Severus, I am open to hearing it. Blood wards are still the strongest and most untraceable and Harry's options are extremely limited, at best."

"I thought that the ritual was to search out the closest _living_ relative. If animated corpses are all you need, we should simply dig up the boy's useless father." Severus sneered—his eyes never leaving the motionless vampires. He had grown even more tense when the rest of the family had all but materialized behind Jasper and Alice. Seven vampires staring at you was an intimidating sight, even without the trademark blood-red eyes. Rosalie's rumbling growl certainly didn't help matters.

The old man looked at the dark man disapprovingly for a moment before turning to the gathered vampires.

"I apologize," he said "for my companion's comments and our unannounced intrusion into your home, but I am afraid that I am here to discuss a rather serious matter with one of you. My name is Albus Dumbledore and I am headmaster of a boarding school in Scotland and my companion is Severus Snape, one of the school's professors."

"I am sure that you are wondering at the method of our arrival." Dumbledore continued, his genial tone was meant to be soothing. Conversely, the old man's blue eyes were razor sharp as they seemed to evaluate each of the vampires in turn. He lingered when examining Edward, Alice and most especially Jasper.

"What do you know if you don't mind my asking, about magic?" He asked gently.

Emmett snorted with laughter. Other than Rosalie's growl, it was the first sound that any of the vampires made since the arrival of their strange guests.

"What do you mean? Like pointy hats and magic… wands…?" His voice trailed away as he looked again at the men, both holding polished sticks and one was quite conspicuously donning a pointy hat.

Alice moved with exaggerated slowness to Emmett's side. She smiled and said "You might not want to talk for a while. It would be for the best."

Carlisle stepped forward and smiled and the wizards. "I have heard something of the Wizarding World. It was several centuries ago, however."

"Good, good." Dumbledore smiled brightly. "You'll find that in the Wizarding World change comes very slowly and would likely appear much the same today as it did several centuries ago. Our long lifespan (which in your eyes must seem to be quite short) ensures slow progress, for good or for ill."

"We are here on behalf of one of our students who, has recently lost the last of his known family and is in need of a place to stay for the duration of the summer holidays. My companion and I performed a ritual that would bring us to the nearest blood relation on his maternal line. It seems that you, sir," The old wizard said, smiling at Jasper, "are just who we were looking for."

Jasper didn't know exactly how to respond to the ancient looking man. He could feel the emotions of the two wizards and knew that despite his twinkling and happy façade, the old man was extremely worried. The darker wizard was feeling only disgust and impatience.

"I am this child's _closest_ _living_ relative?" Jasper asked incredulously. He wasn't sure what to think about the decline of his family line.

"Yes." The dark haired wizard sneered. "Although to call you 'living' is a bit of an exaggeration, isn't it?"

"Severus." Dumbledore rebuked mildly. "We are not here to aggravate them, but to beg their assistance."

"How old is he?" Rosalie asked. Jasper could feel her hope and was surprised to feel it echoed by Alice. She had never expressed any longing for children the way Rosalie had. Even Esme's emotions became decidedly wistful at the mention of a child.

"Harry will be sixteen on the thirty-first of July." The elderly wizard's response dampened Rosalie's hopefulness, but did not seem to affect the other two.

"I must ask, I'm sure that you will understand, about the color of your eyes. They are most remarkable. I have never met a vampire with anything like." Jasper was almost overwhelmed by the curiosity emanating from the two wizards. He gasped when he felt a strange tingling feeling sweep over his skin. He heard Alice make a nearly inaudible choking sound and Edward was visibly startled.

"Oh dear." Albus said as he peered at them over the top of his glasses. "I apologize if that was at all uncomfortable for you. It would seem that several of you have some latent magical abilities." He paused before asking, "Were the three of you magical in your human lives?"

"Squibs, at best Albus." The dark one said sharply. "The change can magnify undeveloped abilities. It's rare, but not unheard of. Why aren't your eyes red?" He snapped the last question at the vampires.

Carlisle smiled lightly, ignoring the wizard's sneering hostility, and spoke in a soothing voice that Jasper imagined worked extraordinarily well on Carlisle's human patients. "We like to call ourselves vegetarians. We feed from animals exclusively. I can only surmise that the slight differences in the composition of the blood causes our eyes to differ from those of our kind who feed on human blood."

Albus broke into a wide grin. "Excellent." He said happily. "That demonstrates an admirable regard for human life, doesn't it Severus? I think that this could work out splendidly! Shall my companion and I give you a few moments to discuss this amongst your coven? I am afraid we have little time to spare. Harry cannot be left long with such limited protections…"


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for all the kind reviews! It brings me back to this story when I had never really intended to keep it going.

Chapter 2

The numbness that Harry had enjoyed during his aunt and cousin's funeral happily continued until he and Vernon Dursley returned to Privet Drive. Vernon drove in stony silence while Harry watched the cookie cutter neighborhoods pass by his window, his thoughts equally out of reach. The silence was almost comfortable as both of the car's occupants seemed fully absorbed by their own thoughts.

_The Boy Who Lived No More_. That might be too poetic for the Daily Prophet, Harry thought. _The Boy Who Lost_ was a fatalistic option that seemed practically inevitable while _The Boy Who Left_ was entirely too much like wishful thinking.

Harry was startled as the car stopped in front of number 4. The day had been moving in strange fits and starts. The funeral had felt endless but the drive home had seemed instant.

Things quickly became more unreal as they awkwardly stood together in the front hall of the Dursley home. Both men, older and younger, felt the silence of the house weigh heavily upon them. No sounds of Dudley thundering up and down the stairs or shouting for his mother to bring him something from the kitchen in which Petunia was not puttering around or peering out of the windows, spying on the neighbors. The silence was disconcerting to say the least.

"Harry" Vernon broke the silence only to pause and rub his eyes with a shaking hand. "I'm not keeping you."

"I know." Harry muttered. He tugged slightly on his stiff, starched collar that Vernon had insisted he wear. Harry couldn't think of a more appropriate way to honor his stiff, starched and quite dead aunt so he hadn't argued.

"I mean it, Boy." Vernon growled when Harry didn't make any objections. His face was beginning to darken with anger. "You have an hour to leave this house. Do what you have to do to contact _your kind_. It's only because you are Pet-Petuna's blood that I don't just bin it and toss you out like the rubbish you are."

"_Yes sir_." Harry snarled, glaring at his former uncle. Harry stormed up the stairs but carefully closed the door to his bedroom. He had barely unpacked anything after returning to Privet Drive, so packing wasn't much of an issue. Hedwig was off delivering a letter to the Hermione, which left the Knight Bus was his only option for leaving. Vernon may have told him he had an hour to go but Harry wasn't about to take any chances.

It only took a moment for him to pile the few books and clothes that he had used during his short week away from Hogwarts. The accident had happened on Harry's second night home for the summer holidays. He would never forget the sounds of his uncle's weeping after the police told Vernon of his wife and son's deaths. For the first time in Harry's life he managed to feel some kinship with his uncle. Harry had ached with the same kind of pain from the instant Sirius fell through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. What he wouldn't give to have the luxury of wailing at life's injustices and indulge in his own misery.

Harry had been more startled then anything by the news of his family dying. For him it had seemed as though life had just stopped when Sirius vanished behind the veil. This extreme reminder that the world had moved on was both disturbing and unwelcome.

A part of Harry, one that he wasn't particularly proud of, felt some satisfaction in just how his aunt had died. She had raised Harry on the tale of his drunk-driving father killing himself and Lily. Now Petunia hadn't been drinking, the police hadn't even found her at fault in the accident, but the dark part of him that he never gave voice to saw this as justice for her cruelty to Harry and betrayal of her sister's memory. This was an ugly revenge against Vernon for always having mocked Harry for his dead family. Now Vernon would know what it meant to be alone and in pain for the loss of those he loved the most.

Just imagining the look on Hermione or Mrs. Weasley's face was enough to keep Harry silent on that thought forever.

Harry dragged his heavy trunk down the stairs, letting the other end bang against every step. When he returned to front hall it looked as though Vernon hadn't moved so much as an inch since Harry left to pack.

"Make sure you've got everything boy. I won't have you back no matter how many letters your kind sends. After today you don't exist to me."

Harry laughed, "Like I would ever come back if I had a choice anyway. With Aunt Petunia dead, I don't have any use for you."

Vernon's face purpled and he seemed to swell with his rage. For a second Harry was afraid he had accidentally blown up Vernon like he had Marge a few years earlier. Moving faster than Harry would have ever guessed possible, Vernon backhanded Harry across the face and he fell hard to the floor. The back of his head struck the floor with a thud that made his teeth rattle and head explode with pain.

"Boy," he roared, "you'll show some respect for my wife!"

Before Harry could let loose with what would have undoubtedly been a cruel retort he felt a rush of magic wash over him. It was only then that he and Vernon noticed the arrival of Albus Dumbledore.

The headmasters face was thunderous. He had arrived just in time to see Vernon strike Harry and had been shocked by the unexpected violence.

"You!" Harry's uncle snarled. His rage found a new target without the troubling familial connection. "You fix this!"

"Mr. Dursley, while I understand that this has been a trying time, you will not lay another hand on this boy" Dumbledore's face might have been made of stone for all the sympathy in his expression.

Vernon whole body sagged. "Please… please bring them back," Vernon's voice quavered. "What good is magic if you can't bring them back?"

Harry sighed as he heaved himself up off the floor. His head swam alarmingly and he felt his lip split when he grimaced from the pain.

"Do you think if he could bring Aunt Petunia and Dudley back I would have ever lived here in the first place?"

Vernon huffed a shaky sob. "Maybe if you'd died with your parents this wouldn't have happened. You've been a taint, a curse on our lives. Maybe things would have been different…"

"And maybe you should've died with your wife and son." Harry bared his teeth in what could have been a smile when his uncle's expression hardened once again. He could feel the hot blood drip from his throbbing mouth.

Vernon's face purpled as his rage was reborn but before he could take a step in Harry's direction the headmaster's voice froze them both in place.

"That is quite enough, Harry. Vernon, I am sorry for your loss but I'm about to deal you another blow that I believe will not be as harsh as I had initially believed." Dumbledore stepped between Harry and his uncle. "I'm taking Harry to a new home today."

Vernon smiled nastily. "Good! Let the boy freeload from someone else for a change. Don't bring him back here. He's not welcome."

Dumbledore reeled back as if repulsed by the obvious hatred emanating from the other man.

"I would ask if you would like a few moments to say goodbye but I'm guessing, and my guesses do tend to be good, that that would be unnecessary."

Vernon stomped passed them towards the lounge. He had avoided the kitchen entirely since the accident, living on takeaway when he did eat. The room seemed to pain him as Petunia's presence was still an almost tangible thing in there.

He growled out insults about Harry, wizards, and Dumbledore that made Harry's face burn hot with embarrassment. Or maybe that was just the swelling.

Dumbledore's hand pressing lightly to Harry's shoulder snapped him out of his musings. He cringed when his attempt at a smile only brought more blood trickling down his chin.

"Now this won't do." Dumbledore sighed. "I must admit that my knowledge of the healing arts isn't all that it could be, but I think I can fix this up for you. Do you mind, my boy?"

Harry could only shake his head as the old man's heavily carved wand lightly tapped his throbbing lip and then brushed against his cheek. The pain dimmed immediately, leaving only the pounding of the lump on the back of his head.

-0-0-0-0-

It was hardly ten minutes after the elderly wizard had left that there was another crack and flash of light, followed by a thud of a body hitting the wooden floor. Alice rushed forward to help the boy up from where he had fallen beside a large, old-fashioned trunk. He didn't seem the notice the cool skin of her hand as he peered at her through his shaggy hair.

The boy stood uncertainly before them; the picture of a boy on the cusp of manhood, all big gleaming eyes and awkward hands. He was handsome even while dressed in his stiff, ill-fitting clothes and grubby shoes. The smell of fresh blood clung to him like a shroud.

"I'm sorry about that Headmaster." Harry said quietly, not quite meeting Dumbledore's eyes. "My unc- Vernon shouldn't have said those things to you."

Dumbledore reached out and rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It is not for you to apologize for the actions of others, my dear boy. I think for once Vernon Dursley can be forgiven some of his bad behavior, but striking you in that way is not something that should be easily brushed aside."

Esme gasped and Alice pulled Harry carefully away from the old wizard and smoothed her thumb over what she now realized was a freshly healed wound on his lip.

"Your uncle did this to you?" She asked, golden eyes blazing.

Harry shifted awkwardly away from her hand. "It's nothing," he muttered while trying to subtly look at the room full of people. He only gathered the courage to look Alice in the eyes after the silence became uncomfortable.

He gasped as the sunlight streaming through the window made her skin shimmer. "You're not human! What-"

"Surely Potter, even your infinitesimally small brain can determine what these _things _are." Snape spat before Harry could say more. "Lupin taught them to you in your third year. But then again, perhaps his _skills_ as a teacher were overrated."

Harry's shoulders hunched and he looked at his feet after casting another furtive glance at Alice, who smiled brightly at him. "Vampires," he muttered quietly.

"It seems as though even a mindless cretin such as yourself can retain basic information."

Harry's head was still spinning a very short hour later after being installed in a bare looking bedroom with a spectacular wall of windows. The headmaster and Snape had left after an alarmingly brief explanation of Harry's new living arrangements. A bed had been retrieved from a nearby cabin the Cullens kept; his clothes had been unpacked by several of the female vampires (who had tutted with dissatisfaction over the state of his wardrobe) and decorations were being artfully arranged around the room by the third. The vampire that was supposedly his ancestor sat immobile next to Harry as they watched the others flutter around his new bedroom.

"You… you're not afraid of us." Jasper said quietly. He seemed disturbed at the thought.

"No."

"Why not?"

"There are worse things than being dead." Harry finally replied. "And besides, if you wanted to kill me they wouldn't be worrying about my clothes or if this room needs curtains."

Jasper only stared at Harry uncomprehendingly but before he could even open his mouth to argue Alice sat at Harry's other side. Her blinding smile hadn't dimmed since it was decided that Harry would stay with them for the summer.

"I'm so happy you're here, Harry." She said as her eyes devoured him. And she was happy. Jasper almost felt giddy from her reflected joy. Harry was no empath but even he knew the truth of her words.

"Why." No one had ever been so genuinely happy to see him. There had to be a catch. Some way this was going to metaphorically bite Harry in the ass. Well, hopefully only metaphorically.

Alice was quiet for a long time and Harry was regretting asking by the time she answered. She held Harry's hand and ran her thumb carefully over the words that had been carved there during the previous school year. They were lighter now but he had a feeling they might as well had been newly created to her sharp eyes.

"The truth is that family matters." Harry tried to pull his hand from hers but she held fast.

"I wouldn't know."

Alice smiled, "Well then I guess we have something to teach you now, right?"


End file.
